12.10.13

Whitewashed






White walls, white ceiling, white floor
The slate has been whitewashed clean
No escape no windows no door
What does all of this mean

Vivid colors echo from my past
Pain, pleasure, and blinding confusion
 Somehow I knew they would never last
 Perhaps it was all just some elaborate illusion

 Bustling cafes, exotic lands, and oceans so blue
Now I sit and stare at  suffocating walls of alabaster
Skies dark like pitch and storms that would endlessly brew
 Where have you lead me, fate, my master

A colorful bird left flightless in a colorless world 
   

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